Well, how did I get here?

Posted on

Nov 11, 2009

You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack
You may find yourself in another part of the world
You may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile
You may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife
You may ask yourself: well… how did I get here?

I know, I know – this is the second post in a very short span of time that has addressed my ever-changing financial situation, and I apologize for that. I suppose I’m having a bit of crisis of conscience. I am the sort of girl who clips coupons. Who shops at the Goodwill. Who doesn’t order wine with dinner (because, seriously, have you seen the markup on most bottles? That’s how restaurants make their money). I am not, say, the sort of person who flies business class to London. And yet, there we were, and I had to pretend that I belonged there. Rand seemed to have an easier time of it.

Sadly, he was disappointed with his poached salmon.

I, on the other hand, wanted to start maniacally thanking everyone, and slipping fivers into the flight attendants’ pockets. I wanted people to think I belonged there. That’s the funny thing about economy (when, by the way, did we stop calling it coach?) – as miserable as it is, it’s where I’m comfortable. And yet, and yet, and yet …

Whenever I do fly economy, which is, roughly, 99% of the time, I always look up at first class and think, someday. Someday I will travel enough to earn status on an airline. Someday I will have enough of a budget for travel that I can justify the cost of that ticket. But even then … I’m not entirely sure I would.

I remember once saving up my money to buy a pair of Guess jeans – I must have been 11 or so. And these jeans were the astronomical price of $40. But I wanted them so, so badly. Finally, when I had enough saved up, my mom took me to the mall. And as I stood there, staring at them in their faded glory, the triangular logo on the back, I realized they weren’t that special. And I walked away with my $40, leaving the jeans swaying back and forth on their clothes hanger.

Because back then, it just didn’t seem worth it. But $40 on tuna tatar with caviar and quail egg? That’s kind of another story, right?

This is what liberals eat. And it's AWESOME.

I don’t suppose there’s any resolution to this. I just don’t want to lose perspective on things. I don’t want to forget how infinitely lucky I am. It’s just hard not to look around and wonder whose life you’re living.

You may ask yourself: well… how did I get here?

I’m not entirely sure … but I think he’s probably somewhat to blame: